


The Contest

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Trio of Inexcusable Fluff [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon What Canon, F/M, Fluff, Rom Com Shenanigans, The Author Regrets Nothing, flufftastic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 17:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: IT’S SO FLUFFY!





	The Contest

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a totally non-canonical timeframe in which TFW has time to sit around carving pumpkins. Everything was cuteand nothing hurt.

“This is supposed to ward off evil spirits?” Jack asked, brow furrowed, stabbing awkwardly at his pumpkin. You winced. 

 

“Something like that, depending who you ask,” Sam said. His tongue was poking out from between his teeth as he sliced carefully. “Actually -” 

 

“So, get this…” you quipped. Sam gave you a blank look, but Jack and Cas laughed. “Sorry, Sam, continue. What does the lore say?” 

 

He huffed a little, but you could see the fondness in his smile. “Depending who you ask, they were either supposed to scare off evil spirits, or represent the souls of Christians trapped in Purgatory. And the first jack o’lanterns were actually turnips.” 

 

“They were rudimentary at best. Nothing compared to the, ah, incredible artistic talent on display here,” Cas contributed drily. “This bunch gets much more competitive about it than any other humans I’ve encountered. Well, these two at least.” He gestured between you and Sam with his knife. 

 

“How are you doing over there, darlin?” you asked Dean. He’d set himself up in the corner, away from the rest of you, and was glowering at his pumpkin like it had personally offended him. 

 

“Fine,” he insisted. 

 

“C’mon, it’s okay, I’m not going to love you any less if you have to ask for help.” 

 

Cas wandered over and snuck a peek before Dean could get it out of reach. His eyebrows shot up incredulously. 

 

“I’m fine,” Dean said again, gruff and strained. You rolled your eyes and turned back to putting the final touches on your masterpiece. 

 

“I think I’m finished,” Jack said, and he turned his pumpkin around so that you could see. He’d slashed a sloppy, crude face into it, with sharp but crooked teeth. You almost laughed until you saw the pride on his face. 

 

“For your first Halloween, I’d say it’s a great start,” Sam said, obviously holding back a laugh of his own. “How ‘bout you, Cas?” 

 

Triangular eyes, big grin. You smiled. “Isn’t that the same thing you did last year?” 

 

“It’s not like I ever win, anyway,” Cas grumbled. “Besides, it’s a classic for a reason. What did you come up with, then?” 

 

“Sam, your reign is over,” you announced, and held up your (fucking impeccable, if you did say so yourself) rendering of Jack Skellington. Cas and Sam gave it an approving round of applause. 

 

“A worthy contender,” Sam granted, but he gave you a very smug look and dramatically revealed a perfect, intricate, obsessive carving of the Death Star. You gaped. 

 

“What is this, four years in a row now?” you spluttered. “How the fuck did you… you’re cheating. No way you could do all that from memory, that’s gotta be a stencil.” 

 

“Nope, just a fanboy,” he grinned. 

 

“Don’t count Dean out just yet,” Cas said. There was a funny suppressed smile on his face that made you wonder how bad, exactly, Dean’s was this year. 

 

“No, never mind, this is stupid,” Dean muttered. “Jesus, fuck, Cas, don’t - okay, fine!” 

 

He took a deep breath and turned his pumpkin around. In big, blocky letters, he’d carved, “Marry me?” 

 

You blinked stupidly a few times, mouth hanging open, looking between the pumpkin and Dean’s earnest, nervous expression. 

 

As if from a distance, you heard Jack ask, “Is that traditional too?” 

 

“No, but they’ve never really been big on tradition,” Sam said. It sounded like he was choked up. 

 

“Three years ago,” you said softly. “Right?” 

 

Dean nodded. His eyes sparkled when he met your gaze. “Three years ago today.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Dean raised his eyebrows, and you realized he was still waiting for a response. 

 

“Oh! Yes! Duh,” you blurted out. “Yes, fuck yes. I’ve been waiting for you to ask for… well, three years now.” 


End file.
